Suede Eyes
by Kiku Hoshi
Summary: Two characters meet, a third spies. Oneshot. Written for the "Pick a Number, Any Number" Challenge. T just in case, as I like to overrate my stories.


**Challenge:**"Pick a Number, Any Number"  
**Prompts:**"My Best Friend's Girl" by the Cars, and Kiss.**  
****Pairings:**Remus/Tonks, with a slight third character/Remus wanted, but not acted upon.  
**When:**During the book known colloquially as "OotP", likely sometime in mid- to late fall.**  
****Disclaimer:**** I do not, under any circumstances, own the "Harry Potter Series", nor do I own any character within. If I did, Severus and Lily would've slept together just once, in order to put Harry's paternity into doubt and scare the living hell out of the boy. :D**

"_You're always dancing down the street__  
__With your suede blue eyes"_

Her eyes aren't blue, or even close to that color, I think to myself, the Muggle music blaring through the speakers I rigged to play magically. Those eyes are suede, though: soft, and easy to leave a mark upon. She is young, innocent, and naïve: everything you aren't, everything you have never been, and it makes you uncomfortable. I can tell, as you shove your hands further into the suit-coat's pockets.

For some reason, you still prefer Muggle clothing to a wizard's robes, and that comes in handy, as you look very put together in a shabby way. The Muggles on the street outside barely glance at the both of you. Her eyes – and your coat – are exactly the shade of the grass on the ground. I'm impressed that she knew without really knowing.

I shake my head, a small smile on my face. _You always were a charmer, my friend_, I think to myself, as you take her hand. I catch her smile in the exceptionally bright moonlight (the help from the streetlight notwithstanding), and see the disapproving shock in your own. I shake my head again. _Old friend, you need to let yourself love._

I can almost read the question in her eyes, which is amazing given the distance. _Is there another?_ You hesitate, and she brushes past you. I can't help but want to smack you. Of course there was another, there was always another.

You grab her wrist and she involuntarily twists back to you, turning until she's pressed against your chest.

"That was a very Prongs-y move, old man," I murmur, my face hidden behind the curtains. Even with the windows closed, I can hear exactly what the two of you are saying as though I'm right there next to you. My imagination? Perhaps, or perhaps you're letting me look into your mind. More than likely, I have one of the Weasley twins' ear contraptions threaded out the window enough for me to listen.

Marauders to the end.

"Whom?"

"It doesn't matter, Nymphadora."

"You know I hate my name, Remus."

Oh, this sounds so familiar. You know that she was in love with you before she turned to him, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to tell her that you loved her too. Will you repeat history again?

"You didn't answer my question, Remus. Who is she?"

"I can't tell you that."

She's smart, though, and I watch her hair turn long and redden while she still searches your eyes. You let go of her and back away, looking as though a ghost had risen before you.

She laughs, her head falling back and her hair failing to cover her face anymore. She looks just like Lily, I see, and my heart catches in my throat for you.

"I saw how you looked at her pictures. Let me be your Lily, Remus," she breathes, gliding towards you.

"_When she's dancing 'neath the starry sky__  
__You kinda like the way she dips"_

She grabs your unwilling hand and twirls under it, then backs up, light on her toes. She spins one more time, almost tripping in her clumsiness. You forget, for a moment, whom she really is, and the first real smile I've seen you give in a long while graces your lips. She stops her little dance and drifts over to you. You gather her in your arms, and I can't help but feel sorry for you. As you dip your head to meet her lips, I hear her again, light as air. "Let me be your Lily."

That jolts you back to reality. You push her, rather roughly, into a tree. I wince for her.

"Don't try to trick me, Nymphadora," you growl. I can hear the bloodlust in your voice, even though the full moon isn't due for a while yet. She slides down the trunk, the tears trickling down her cheeks. You advance, and she cowers. She's no fool – even when love blinds her from reason, she still knows whom, exactly, she's dealing with.

"I love you, Remus. I just want you to love me, too." Her hair starts to curl, a sign of fear. "I just want you to be happy."

"Then leave me alone, Nymphadora. I'm not a battle-scarred hero, tormented by losses of loved ones, from which the kiss of an, an untouched youth might save me."

_Could've fooled me, and dear god, old man, why didn't you just say _-

"I'm no virgin, Remus," she mused, a small half-smile on her lips. Your own twitch, wanting to betray you, but you managed to fight the feeling, keeping them in a hard line.

I, meanwhile, gag a little, as I didn't need to know of my (first cousin once-removed? Second cousin… Eh, might as well just be) cousin's sexual exploits. I also start wondering whom, exactly, I'm going to have to kill for her honor. Yes, we're enlightened wizards, compared to those of old, but I can't help feeling a bit protective of her.

"Besides," you continue the ramble, slightly shaken by her revelation, "We barely met but a few months ago. How do you know you love me?"

"I just do. Aren't you werewolves supposed to be able to tell who their mate is?" Your slight change in posture tells her everything. As she speaks, I think the same. "You think she was your mate, don't you? You gave her up to your best friend, all the while knowing that she was probably the only woman for you." She chuckles. "If she was really your mate, luv, you would've fought for her."

"I felt the fire when we kissed. I, my body, _knew_."

"_It's some reaction to love, the love, a love"_

"So kiss me. See if your body does the same to me. If it does nothing, I leave, end of subject, no more insisting that you will grow to love me. If it reacts, then I'm your mate and, while she may have been… She is no more." You seem hesitant to agree, your eyes skimming her face, so she lowers her voice, remembering her form. "Do you want me to change back to myself, Remus?" You nod, mutely, and turn your head as she does so. You turn it towards Number Twelve, and I can see the acute pain on your face. For you, this is almost as bad as her dying, I can tell. After a long moment, she whispers your name, and you turn back.

She's not bad looking, is she, Remus? She has the Black look about her – Bellatrix's and her mother's curly hair, although hers is a dirty-blonde color, and her mother's eyes. Even her skin is very Black-ish in appearance: she's a pale beauty where it counts. She gives a shy smile, and I suddenly don't know if I should believe her previous statement, as no one but a virgin could have looked that innocently impatient. I wonder if I should watch you two in this insanely private moment, but instead of looking away, my voyeuristic tendencies kick in.

You open your arms to her, timid, as though she's the werewolf and you are the mere wizard. She comes without even thinking, and I watch as you tenderly – oh so tenderly, as though you're afraid to break her – she's not a porcelain doll, Remus! – press your lips against hers. The feeling behind the kiss catches you off guard, and you go to pull back, but she won't let you.

Feisty, she is. It's a Black thing. Instead of letting you go, she wraps her arms around your neck, forcing you to deepen the kiss. In that moment, I see exactly how hard it is for you to restrain yourself. You sly dog, er, wolf! You're trying to keep yourself from feeling for her, and I know why. It goes back to that moment, when you shoved your hands into your pockets, your green coat's pockets. Now, those hands roam my cousin's sides, even as you try to fight your instincts.

I'd be impressed, even through the heartbreak, if that was anyone but my baby cousin you were groping. If only because I love you, I will say nothing, though I want to open up the window and scream at you both, "You can't do this!"

Why, after all the encouragement I've silently shown you in the past few minutes?

Because there's a part of me that wants to trade places with Dora. There's a part of me that wishes I was your mate – your love-mate, not your friend-mate. It's why, I think, I have a dog as my Animagus form. But of course, I'm not going to be. I'm just the best mate, best friend.

I'm one form of mate. She's the other; it's obvious by the way you're MARKING HER NECK. Remus Lupin, you dirty old man, GET A ROOM AND_ THINK OF THE CHILDREN_,OR BETTER YET,_**THINK OF ME**_!! I mean, kissing her, obvious by the way you're kissing her very, very possessively.

I didn't know family could betray that easily and hurt so deeply. The worst part is, she doesn't even know.

It's the second time you've been involved in a love triangle, hm, Remus?

As she twines her hands into your hair, and I can hear you growling the one word I wish you would say to me ("Mine") into her bruised throat, I know she never will be aware of it.

I pull back totally from the window, cradling my head in my hands. I want you to be happy, but in doing so, in attempting to see you as just a friend, only a friend… I may end up even more insane than this place – this protected, reverse prison – is making me.

"_She's my best friend's girl"__  
_And I wish he was mine.


End file.
